


Bullet with Butterfly Wings

by Luna (lunasky)



Category: Alias
Genre: Bondage, Challenge: GenderBender, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-27
Updated: 2005-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-06 03:19:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunasky/pseuds/Luna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lauren thinks she has Sark all figured out. She was wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bullet with Butterfly Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Much beta love to chele74!

_"Frailty, thy name is woman"  
~Shakespeare_

~~

The first time they had sex, they didn't take off enough clothes for her to notice. After all, the front seat of the car just didn't afford them much room.

The second, third, and fourth time, Lauren could only assume that he hadn't wanted her to notice; instead he'd chosen to lull her into a false sense of overconfidence to ensure her foolish reaction when she did eventually notice.

Which, of course, happened when he finally stood up to have a shower.

"What's that on your hip?" she asked casually, seeing the bright colors pop up against his pale skin.

He turned his face towards her, with no hint of anything except lust; that, and his puppy-like adoration, as if he was powerless to deny her anything.

"Just a tattoo," he muttered, almost as if he was embarrassed.

Of course, his response only made her get up off the bed and pull his hips towards her so she could have a closer look. When she finally understood what it was she was seeing, she couldn't help her surprise. Nor did it ever occur to her to hide or tone down her natural response. "It's a butterfly!" Her mockery was plain in her voice. "You have a butterfly tattoo. What are you, a little girl?"

He shrugged and stood there.

"Why in the world do you have a butterfly tattoo on your hip?" she demanded, placing her hands on her hips.

Sark gently pulled her back towards the bed, sat down next to her and whispered in her ear. "Do you really want to know?"

Looking back, all she could think was one thing—she had fallen for it.

~~~

She had no idea how long ago that was. Time had ceased to have much meaning once she'd finally figured out that perhaps she was in over her head.

It had started out easily enough. He had blindfolded her and given her something to drink. She had accepted it. In part it was curiosity, but the real reason was because she truly believed that there wasn't anything he could do to hurt her. To her, it was all a game.

After all, she had spent years learning how to encourage the male devotion that she so readily used to her advantage. Men were weak, easy to please, and Lauren understood well that if you knew how to keep someone happy, you had control over them. Women, on the other hand, had subtlety. Tact. They understood manipulation. All that was necessary for a woman to come out on top was to stop believing all the bullshit that men had been trying to lay on them since the dawn of time. Once a woman recognized and acknowledged her potential, nothing could stand in her way.

She'd always had control over her men. Then she had woken up here. In the space of time between then and now, she had started to have some doubts.

~~~

Oh, she had been angry when she'd first woken up, naked on her stomach. Well, actually, she was lying more on her chest and knees, since her ass was sticking up in the air like a newborn babe's. She couldn't do a thing about it, though. Her wrists were shackled to her ankles, forcing her to maintain the position. She'd tried to look around but found that her body weight was pressing the side of her face against the ground; she didn't have enough leverage to turn her head.

After that quick assessment, she'd moved slightly beyond angry.

She struggled and fought violently against her restraints, but it was in vain. The metal collars around her wrists dug into her skin as she tried to rotate her hands. Not only that, but her ankles were also secured to two ends of a bar, forcing them apart. She couldn't even tip herself over so that she could lie on her side or back.

She was pissed.

Slowly, as the minutes passed and nothing happened, her anger cooled a little as the air chilled her naked skin. She had no choice but to wait for Sark to show himself.

This is where she found herself now, cold, angry, sore, and restrained on a pale marble floor.

Forcing her eyes to stretch to the limits of their periphery and cranking her neck as much as she could, Lauren could see that she was no longer in the hotel room. Instead, this room was sparse but elegant. Gone was the bedspread with the tacky floral print. In fact, as far as she could tell, there was no bed at all, only an uncomfortable-looking leather chair sitting over in the corner. It had an end table next to it, with a glass top that she could see through. And as the stark light hit the glass, she could tell that there wasn't a speck of dust covering it.

The walls were black, and the marble against her cheek was smooth and cold. She was in a room made for control and she had the sinking feeling that she was on the wrong end of it. There was nothing of comfort here, nothing out of place, and nothing that didn't belong.

Except for her. Naked and soft and with her most private parts spread for the world to see. As she moved her head, a blonde strand of hair fell across her eyes. She didn't even have her red wig on anymore. There was nothing to hide behind.

It was like time was standing still.

In some part of her that she'd long forgotten about, Lauren started to feel the first tingles of something like fear.

~~~

"Whisper, _woman_, and this is done…" Sark tickled her ear with his breath.

Lauren felt a shiver travel up her spine as she woke up with a start. She didn't remember falling asleep, but as she tried to shift, she found her muscles screaming against their restraints, telling her that she'd been here for far too long. There was a stabbing pain between her shoulder blades and she couldn't stop herself from shivering.

"Let me go, you son of a bitch!" She found some reservoir of strength within herself to thrash against her bonds, but they didn't budge. Sark merely stood back and let out a quiet laugh.

As she lay exhausted on the floor, she suddenly felt a warm hand massaging her right calf.

"You have such strong legs, my love." Sark's voice sounded like velvet.

Lauren clenched her fists. "Let me go!"

Sark moved completely behind her so that she couldn't see him, but his hand trailed down her leg to her heel. Slowly, as he moved around her, his hand traveled back up her leg to her thigh. "Now, now, darling. I told you how to end this. Speak the word of mercy, and I'll let you go."

Trying to ignore the feeling of Sark's hand as it moved up to her ass, Lauren squeezed her lips together in anger and frustration. "What do you want, Sark?"

He laughed again. "The same thing you do, sweetheart. That's the problem. Only one of us can wear the pants in this relationship." He gave her ass a squeeze before moving his hand up her back and along her spine. "Either you admit that you can't handle this, or you end up enjoying it, but the result will be the same."

_You'll lose_, Lauren finished the sentence for him in her mind, her fury sparking again. Quickly going over the possible outcomes, she felt the fear grow in her stomach. She understood the subtext. She could stop this, yes, but only by asking for mercy from Sark because she was a woman. Or, she could suck it up, and try to prove to him that being at his mercy wasn't a turn-on.

Which it wasn't, she tried to convince herself. She took a deep breath and clenched her teeth. The latter was obviously her only option. She hadn't come all this way to be beaten by a man without putting up a fight.

Sark must have understood her silence because he let his hand travel across her shoulders, down her ribcage and across to her breasts. She was shocked at how warm his touch was and how heavy her breasts felt in his hands. She decided it must be because she'd been naked for God knows how long, that his touch elicited a much stronger response than it ever had.

She clamped down on a small moan before it managed to escape her throat. She just had to concentrate and maybe she could still win this game.

But, as his fingers played with her nipples, her breath hitched involuntarily.

_Damn, damn, damn._

Gently, almost tenderly, he let his hands move across her side and onto her back. "You're so tense." Sark's words slid over her as he massaged the muscles under her shoulder blades. As he moved his hands down her back, he left a trail of goose bumps.

Lauren silently cursed her body for its betrayal.

But perhaps even worse than that, was the betrayal of her mind. As she twisted her arms against the cuffs, she found that the act of struggling and not succeeding was suddenly just as exhilarating. Having no choice but to let this man have his way with her…she wanted to scream at herself to snap out of the spell he had obviously put her under.

She was not a woman that liked to be out of control.

As Sark started to massage her ass and upper thighs, his fingers occasionally delving between her ass cheeks where he'd never touched her before, her body let her down again; desire was pooling between her legs, and struggling only made it worse. Every attempt that she made to distract herself only caused her to focus more intently on what he was doing. The harder she clenched her fists, the better it felt when Sark tickled her skin with his tongue. The more the restraints cut into her flesh, the softer his touch felt.

And then suddenly, he was between her legs, slowly positioning himself on his back. Even as she tried to push her legs together against the restraining bar, she couldn't stop herself from squirming in expectation. When his tongue finally found her clit, she let herself buck forward, bringing herself closer to his mouth.

And he continued. He licked her and sucked and drove her wild as his fingers continued to play with her ass. And the more he did that, the more she wanted to feel him inside her, the more he denied her that very sensation.

Finally, when it seemed like she could bear it no more, he moved his hand off her ass and brought it up to her right breast and pinched her nipple. She groaned as the tension alone seemed to almost spiral out of control. Then, while still flicking her clit with his tongue, he finally brought his other hand into play and slipped two fingers inside of her.

"Oh God!" Lauren yelled out, as the orgasm exploded within her without any hesitation.

Sark let her ride out the waves of her release, continuing his movements until she slumped her body against the restraints, exhausted.

Sark eased his way from underneath her and then she heard keys jingle as they were removed from a pocket. Within a few minutes, he had released her from her bonds.

"Now what?" Lauren panted, sitting up and curling her legs towards her. She felt a flush of defeat creeping across her face. This was not how she had foreseen their relationship developing.

Sark shook his head at her, as if laughing, and then went to sit down on the leather chair in the corner of the room. His smile was benevolent. "Didn't you get the answer to your question?"

For a moment, Lauren had no idea what he was talking about, and then it finally dawned on her. "Your tattoo?"

He nodded, folding his hands together. "Butterflies are beautiful, and elegant. Something meant to be worshiped as the delicate creatures they are."

Lauren looked away, unable to endure his gaze. But, she couldn't escape his words, which suddenly took on a hard, malicious edge.

"They go into their cocoon as ugly worms and after they're released, they become the most beautiful things. Their imprisonment sets them free in the end."

Lauren swallowed and looked back at him. His face was relaxed, but his eyes were penetrating. She was right. Men had no tact. Sark's message was clear as daylight.

She was his butterfly. Free to flutter around and do what she wanted, to command the attention she deserved. She could slip through his fingers and he would laugh with delight, but she could never forget that he had a larger net. And she had no doubt that he'd take just as much pleasure in ripping off her wings, if it no longer pleased him to watch.


End file.
